緇門警訓 6.4

6.4

Ascending the hall, chanting and reciting sūtras, and informal instruction: whenever the assembly gathers, you must proceed promptly. Superior practitioners on itinerant pilgrimage carry the rules with them; how can you be careless and indolent, inviting censure from others? A single offense may be forgiven, but with three violations, where is your shame? Without considering Baizhang’s genuine tradition, you will soon see what Touzi said: as soon as the silence board is hung, each should remain quiet; even when it is not hung, how could you chat and laugh? The ancient Buddhas handed down instructions to guard the mouth like an earthen bottle; throughout the twelve double-hours, one should always maintain silence. If the three modes of action are not restrained, ten thousand calamities will secretly arise. If you well understand the style of Luzu, then hang your mouth upon the wall. Keep the space before your desk always clean and tidy; place only your incense box, Chan admonitions, and scriptural texts, seeking neatness and order. You must not set out secular writings; medicine bundles, incense burners, and other various necessities should be stored under the desk. Chanting aloud and disturbing the crowd, or leaning against the headboard and slighting the great assembly, vainly occupying desk space and hanging belongings in front of clear windows—none of this accords with the Vinaya decorum; how could the monastery permit it? Sit upright with right intention, silently perusing and seeking, thoroughly savoring the holy words to accord with the mind-ground; only when opening the scroll is not done in vain do you truly understand reading scriptures. Ordinary neighbors at desks, practitioners of the Way, must strictly refrain from whispering in each other’s ears. When guests come to visit, propriety cannot be omitted; as soon as tea and decoction are finished and conversation has concluded, lead them out of the dormitory—you must not sit together for long. If they are old companions in the Way or relatives from afar, invite them to the grove or the water's edge, and only then may you pour out your heart in discussion. As for trade, commerce, and drawing in worldly folk, these are not the deeds of a patch-robed monk at all, and should be wiped away entirely with a single stroke of the brush. After morning congee, return to the dormitory and greet one another; respect for the senior, middle, and junior seats is paramount. If it is otherwise, you belittle others and demean yourself. When evening study ends and you open your chest, you must inform the dormitory head. Entering and exiting, when lifting the curtain, let your rear hand drop. Ascending the platform to sit in quietude, do not let your robes hang down. When moving about or walking in meditation, walk even more slowly. Causing others to give rise to thoughts easily produces demonic obstructions; when the voices of the crowd melt metal, what joy is there for oneself? Washing robes and handling needles should be done after the midday meal; undertaking non-urgent tasks leaves the work of the Way neglected. You must not use the hot water bottle to soak clothes or wash your face, cut paper on the table, paste table surfaces, secretly cook refreshments, or conceal evening medicine and bamboo poles. You must distinguish between defiled and pure; when using the pressing iron, consider whether others are at leisure or busy. Keeping it in one corner risks hindering communal use. The ancient sages patched worn clothes merely to stave off cold; once sewn, they left it at that. How could you tend to needle and thread morning and evening? Preparing and serving tea and decoction is a grand ceremony of the monastery; only when the great assembly has gathered like clouds may you sit cross-legged. When the cups and saucers are collected, the whole assembly withdraws together. Secretly stashing tea dust invites mockery from onlookers; bowing with only a single hand—what kind of protocol is that? If you have a reason not to attend, you must inform the dormitory head; for a short tea and decoction sitting, attendance can by no means be skipped. Newly arrived monks entering the dormitory should cherish humility; if not yet versed in the rules, inquire of elders. The Vinaya adapted to circumstances depends on people upholding it; when settling chests and occupying desks, there is no need to rush. With calm care, things will naturally become smooth and easy. Boiling and serving tea upon entering the dormitory is fundamentally for everyone; with sincere intent, the tea must be shared by all. After using utensils, return them to their original places; after pouring from the hot water bottle, refill it immediately. Walking in the mountains or along water, guard against careless speech: opening the mouth like a drawn bow, shooting words like arrows, altering opinions to judge others, talking of food and money, scolding the wind and cursing the rain. Walls have ears, and the monastic rules know no favoritism; only when suddenly hurt in the tiger’s mouth will you realize that your sharp edge was exposed too much. Whenever there is a cremation, attend whether it is overcast or clear, each cherishing sorrow and together giving rise to compassionate minds, fearing that the departed person lived in vain and died to no purpose. Hold sūtras and dhāraṇīs in your mouth, carry firewood on your shoulders; how could you be wild and unrestrained, laughing and chatting at will? The auction of robes and bowls was originally to eliminate stinginess; later generations do not understand this and turn it into greed and clinging, covertly measuring length and secretly inspecting old and new, bidding low and taking expensive shares worse than ordinary peddling; unaware of self-reproach, they even boast of a good bargain. Those who understand look on from the side, sweating with embarrassment. If you are an eminent practitioner from the ocean of monks, a noble guest in the Chan cloister, merely make affinity for the deceased; do not let living people sneer at you. Being gentle, harmonious, and compliant is pleasing to both superiors and inferiors; if you are arrogant and boastful, the holy ones will not protect you. The eighty thousand subtle practices and three thousand dignified deportments—all are visible at every turn throughout the twelve double-hours. Crossing straight through the hall, are you not thick-skinned? Wandering casually through the sacred halls, you may deplete your modest blessings. Entering the hall in informal attire or roaming the hills in straw sandals: do not trample upon the Dharma hall, and show deference to senior elders. Washing the face at the fifth watch is originally for the sake of practice; spitting and dragging washbasins noisily disturbs the great assembly. Secretly stirring thoughts while remaining blind to oneself, as days and months pass, the face grows sallow and the body gaunt. Use bath water sparingly, and do not pick up the cleaning tallies unnecessarily. Doing much meritorious deed is not as good as avoiding sin. Spitting in the corridors and scratching your head over the desk, you contravene the sages and follow your own whim. Inspect yourself at all times and take precautions at every step. You must make your body and mind humble, and then you may enlarge your magnanimity. The ten-day dormitory heads provide for each other in turn; sleeping late and rising early, the aim is wholehearted devotion. Painstakingly laboring your mind, put others first and yourself second. Keep strict guard over the robes and bowls of the great assembly; if one detail is amiss, the crowd’s thoughts are disturbed. Boiling tea, sweeping the floor, changing water, and setting out incense—do not let the hot water bottle grow cold, so that the Chan monks are spared vexation. The head monk in the dormitory must be gentle and harmonious; when regulations are practiced first, standards will naturally be established. Sit at your desk according to the proper time, and speak briefly and directly. If there is any inadequacy, the assembly shall discuss it together. Sightseeing in mountains and waters, exits and entries must be timely. For monks of ill temper, persuade them with kind words; if they do not comply, report secretly to the abbot. Protect good and check evil to earn the trust of the dānapatis. When washing hair or gathering around the stove, decorum demands humility and yielding. The above rules have been explained in detail for your hearing; in daily affairs and throughout the hours, each should take care. To turn at a single prompt—nothing could be better; if called three times without turning back, what benefit is there in living together? Moreover, the dust of the mind is hard to sweep away, and the water of nature easily surges. Those of middling capacity and middling faculties may rise or fall. When Kebin failed in the Dharma battle, he was fined a hall full of seasoned rice; when Wenyuan competed in Chan over victory and defeat, he lost two pastries. These are models of the monasteries for later students to follow. Jiaoshan does not preach two kinds of Chan; he simply demands a fine of sixteen ounces of oil. A verse says: